


Napping Your Way Into My Heart

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Dean, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Napping, Sharing A Couch?, Shipper Sam, Some Humor, human cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-13 02:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5691160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a movie marathon at Cas' apartment and then everything kind of spirals out of control. Sam will call them both idiots later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Napping Your Way Into My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya,
> 
> Alright, so I recently watched the episode of Friends where Ross and Joey nap together and then I had an internal argument with myself about how I do not need to write anymore fics, but then I thought fuck it and decided to write this because I'm an adult who has no control over my life (or my fingers apparently because they typed this).
> 
> Thanks for reading this and please drop me a comment if y'all have the chance.
> 
> Bye

"BUUUUUM BUUUUUM! BUM BUM BUM BUUUM BUM!" Dean sings quite loudly along with the movie, right into Sam's ear, grinning like an idiot. "BUM BUM BUM BUUUUUUUM BUM! BUM BUM BUM BUM!"

"Dude, we get it, you like Star Wars," Sam says scooting away from Dean, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. He glances over at Cas, hoping to share an exasperated look with him, and isn't disappointed when Cas rolls his eyes but still gives Dean a fond smile.

"C'mon Sammy, I'm here with my two favorite people, watching one of my favorite movies, with a 24-pack and some nachos. What more can I ask for?" Sam doesn't answer, but he does shake his head, getting to his feet. "Where are you going?" Dean demands furrowing his eyebrows. "Episode V  _just_ started."

"Dean, I have to get up early tomorrow," Sam replies shrugging his jacket back on. "Besides, I should probably go now before Cas breaks out his Wookie impression."

"I only bring that out when Charlie is here," Cas says resting his head against the back of the couch, watching the movie through heavy eyelids. "She says I'm getting better."

"You're not," Dean and Sam say together, the latter heading towards the door. "Don't stay up too late guys," Sam adds digging his keys out of his pocket, opening the door.

"Okay Dad," Dean retorts turning back to the TV. "Have a good night, Grandpa."

Sam snorts, shutting the door behind him, leaving Dean and Cas alone. Dean bends down, grabbing another beer, waving it in the air, silently asking Cas if wanted one, but he shakes his head. Dean shrugs, sitting up, opening the can.

A comfortable silence settles over the small apartment, Cas' eyes slipping closed as he burrows deeper into the couch, while Dean nurses his beer. They've both been friends long enough to not need to talk, could practically hold an entire non verbal conversation if they tried hard enough, and right now they're both just content with watching the movie.

Dean's not sure when exactly he falls asleep, but the next thing he knows it's daylight and his head is pressed into something warm and solid. He rubs his face against fabric, too groggy to register what he's laying against, until he hears a familiar voice say, "Dean?"

Dean freezes, his eyes snapping open. He sits up quickly, scooting away from Cas, running a hand through his bedraggled hair. He coughs, looking around the living room, his eyes settling on The Empire Strikes Back's menu screen. "So..."

"Dean," Cas tries again.

"I should go," Dean says getting to his feet. He pats his pockets, looking for nothing in particular, coughs again, and grabs his jacket off the back of the couch. He rushes out the door, calling over his shoulder, "See you later, Cas!"

Cas huffs. "Sure, Dean."

* * *

A few days later, Cas is crouched over a box, restocking cans, when he hears someone approach him. After being friends for so long, he knows Dean footsteps anywhere, so he doesn't react when he feels a figure linger over him, using the price gun on the can in his hand.

"Hey Cas," Dean greets softly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Hello Dean," Cas responds without looking up, placing another can on the shelf.

"So, uh, what time do you get off?" Dean asks awkwardly, picking up a thing of green beans. He turns it over, pretending to read the label, stealing furtive glances at Cas every few seconds.

"Same as every night," Cas replies finally looking over at Dean. "Why?"

"No, uh, no reason." Dean puts the can back, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "So..."

"Dean," Cas stands up, fixing him with an irritated stare, "I have a lot of work to do, so either spit out whatever you wanted to say or go away."

"Just wondering, you know, if you were up for another movie night tonight?" Dean looks away from Cas again, ruffling his hair.

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, Cas, tonight."

Cas eyes his friend warily, crossing his arms defensively against his chest. "You haven't answered any of my calls in three days. Do you honestly think I'm in the mood to hangout?"

"Look," Dean huffs, pulling one of his hands from his pocket, rubbing his mouth, "I, look Cas, I was..." He huffs again, lets out a frustrated breath.

"Well, that was enlightening." Cas uncrosses his arms, placing the last can on the shelf. He stoops down to pick up the empty box, intending to take it out back to the recycling dumpster. "Thanks for stopping by Dean."

"Wait." Dean grabs his arm, stopping him from walking away. "I want to nap again."

"What?" Cas' eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident on his face.

"I want to nap again," Dean mutters letting Cas' arm go, shoving his hand in his pocket again. "With you."

"You want to nap? With me?" Cas can't believe what he's hearing, it's just so ridiculous he feels like pinching himself to make sure he's not asleep.

"Yes, Cas, I do. The other day, shit man, that was the best sleep I've ever had. Like in a while." Dean hunches his shoulders, his face suddenly red, clearly realizing what he's saying. "Um, nevermind."

He goes to walk away but Cas, Cas can't let him go, so he sighs and says, "Come by around eight tonight. We'll watch some Netflix, have some pizza."

Dean stops, shoulders tense, but still nods slowly. He then walks away, disappearing around the corner, nearly running into a little old lady on the way. Cas shakes his head, taking his box towards the back, silently wondering what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

So they start napping together. It probably should be awkward, definitely should be awkward, but Dean just can't bring himself to feel weird about it. He actually  _likes_ sleeping with Cas, it's nice to have a warm body next to him, and it's not like they're dating or anything (they don't even leave the couch). He can still go out, pick someone up at a bar, bring them back to his apartment, and see them out afterward, but there's just something about falling asleep next to his best friend.

Like now, he's sprawled across Cas' crappy, lumpy couch, some stupid, edited horror movie playing in the background, while his best friend is lying on top of him, his head buried into the side of his neck, snoring softly in his ear. It's nice, relaxing even, and the last thing Dean wants to do is move, but he's got to take a piss and Cas' knee pressing into his bladder isn't helping in the slightest.

"Hey," Dean calls softly, gently shaking Cas. "Get up, I gotta take a leak."

"That's unfortunate," Cas retorts grinning against Dean's neck. "I'm too comfortable to move."

"I'll push you off."

Cas snorts, but rolls off of Dean, landing on his knees on the floor. He shuffles towards the remote, laying under the coffee table, no doubt dropped when Dean fell asleep. He picks it up, leaning back against the couch, listening to Dean stumble to his feet and stagger towards the bathroom. He drags himself back onto the couch, titling his head back, stopping on an old episode of Stargate SG-1.

He must doze off again because he's jostled awake by a body falling next to him, bouncing the couch cushions. Cas' head lolls across the back of the couch, his eyes settling on Dean, and he smiles. Dean's hair is sticking up all over his head, his green eyes bloodshot and a little puffy from sleep, and he's got a little drool stuck to the side of his face. Without really thinking about it, Cas reaches over and wipes at the drool with his thumb.

Dean freezes, looking at Cas warily. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know." Cas snatches his hand back, forces himself to laugh, tries to play it off as a joke, knows he failed by the way Dean's eyes narrow slightly. "Um, I should..." he stands, running his hands down his jean clad thighs. "You want a beer or something?"

Dean checks his watch, getting to his feet. "I think I should just go."

Cas nods, disappointment settling deep in his stomach, but he still manages a small smile (one he knows doesn't quite reach his eyes). "I understand." He turns around, busying himself with picking up the empty takeout containers, listening as Dean gathers his stuff.

"So, I'll, uh, I'll see you later," Dean says opening the door.

"Yeah."

Cas listens to the door close and tips his head back, pressing his free hand to his forehead. How could he be so stupid?

* * *

Sam is tired when he gets back to his place, and he wants nothing more than to fall face first onto his bed and sleep for a week, but Cas is sitting on his porch steps, looking a little upset, and he knows, knows deep in his soul, that he is not going to bed early tonight.

"You alright, Cas?" Sam asks taking a seat next to his friend, setting his messenger bag to the side.

"I think I messed up, Sam," Cas responds leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, propping his chin up on his fists.

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

"You don't understand," Cas starts but trails off, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. "Have you ever played your hand too early only to realize you didn't actually _have_ a winning hand?"

"What? Were you playing poker again?"

With a frustrated sigh, Cas tries again. "Have you ever done something impulsive to your best friend and then realized you probably shouldn't have done anything?"

"Did you try to make out with Dean or something," Sam jokes smirking.

"Not, not exactly." Cas' gaze drops to his lap, a troubled look flickering across his face.

"Ah." Sam's not stupid, he sees the way his brother and Cas are around each other, he and Charlie even have a bet over when exactly they're going to hook up, but he also knows his brother. If Dean feels like he's being pressured into anything he immediately pulls away. "What happened then?"

"It doesn't matter," Cas replies after a brief pause, hunching in on himself.

"Hey, it matters." Sam ducks his head, trying to catch Cas' eyes, "It matters, alright? Whatever happened, whatever made Dean take off, I know he'll back."

"How do you know?"

Sam sighs, playfully nudging Cas with his shoulder. "Because if there's one thing I know about Dean, he _always_ comes back." He stands, running his hands down his thighs, snatching his bag off the porch. "You wanna come in for a beer?"

"No, thank you, Sam," Cas replies getting to his feet. He offers Sam a weak smile, nodding towards his beat up old car. "I'm just going to go home. Thank you for talking to me."

"No problem, Cas."

Sam watches him walk away, raising a hand in farewell when Cas gets in his car. Cas returns it, starting the vehicle and pulling away from the curb. He's barely around the corner when Dean's Impala rumbles to a stop right out front of Sam's house. Sam hangs his head, sleep the last thing on his mind now, and heads inside to get out the beer sitting in the back of his fridge, leaving the door open for Dean.

His brother wanders in a moment later, plopping ungracefully onto one of the bar stools in Sam's kitchen, and promptly blurts out, "I think I'm in love with Cas."

Sam forgoes the beer and pulls out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

Cas is getting ready for bed when he hears a thump outside of his apartment. He peeks his head out of the open bathroom door, staring down the hall at his front door, eyeing it warily. His neighbor sometimes came home drunk and tried to get into the wrong apartment, usually Cas', and had already broken three different keys in the lock. It'd be a hassle, having to call the landlord this late, so when another thump sounded Cas sighs and slowly walks towards the door.

"Look, Mr Shurely, I'm pretty sure the landlord..." Cas' words die on his lips when he pulls the door open and finds Dean standing in the threshold.

He's wobbling a little, clearly drunk, but he still tries to fix Cas with a hard stare. He jabs a finger at him and grumbles, "You suck."

Cas takes an involuntary step back, huffing in irritation, and deadpans, "Why exactly do I suck?"

" _Why exactly do I suck?"_  Dean mocks in a horrible imitation of Cas' voice. "Ugh, even annoyed you're freaking adorable."

"What?" Surprised, Cas takes another step back just as Dean lurches forward. He nearly face plants, grabbing the front of Cas' shirt to keep himself upright, and instinctively Cas grabs his elbows. Their faces are inches apart and Cas gets a face full of sour alcohol breath, the scent nearly staggering him. After a few seconds of tense silence, he lets Dean go and asks, "Is there a reason why you're here?"

Still holding onto Cas' t-shirt, Dean lets his head drop, resting it against Cas' collarbone, not answering the question. They stand that way for a long time, neither one saying a word, and Cas is pretty sure Dean fell asleep but he's proven wrong when Dean picks his head up. He releases Cas' shirt, gently tapping both of his cheeks, and says, "Think I love ya." He then promptly throws up all over the floor, splatting Cas' feet.

"Fantastic," Cas murmurs sarcastically.

* * *

Dean's stomach is what wakes him, a horrible gurgling sound that immediately has him staggering to his feet. He stumbles down the hall, mostly on autopilot, crashing into the bathroom. He slams his hip into the edge of the sink, hissing a slew of curse words, dropping to his knees next to the toilet, gagging on the bile stuck in the back of his throat. He heaves for a bit, his stomach clenching painfully, resting his pounding forehead against the bowl when he's certain he's done.

He's not sure how long he sits there, but when he picks up his head he realizes he's not in his bathroom. He recognizes the bathroom after a few seconds, the mismatched towels and dorky, animal shaped hand soap a dead give away. Slowly, Dean pushes himself to his feet, flushing the toilet, and walks out of the room. He returns to the living room, finding Cas sitting in the arm chair, arms crossed, watching him, his face blank.

"I show up here drunk last night?" Dean asks curiously, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably. "Man, I don't remember anything."

Cas doesn't respond, irritation flickering across his face, but it's quickly replaced by the blank mask. He lithely stands, collecting Dean's jacket off the back of the couch, and holds it out to him.

"What?"

"I think it'd be best if you left," Cas replies shaking Dean's jacket, needing him to take it.

"Cas," Dean starts weakly.

"Please go, Dean." His mask cracks a little, showing the sorrow in his blue eyes, but Cas forcing his emotions back.

"Alright, fine." Dean snatches his jacket out of Cas' hand, brushing past him as he heads for the door. He stops, opening his mouth to say something, but decides against it, yanking the door open, letting it shut behind him with a click.

The moment he's gone, Cas sinks back into his chair and murmurs, "I love you, too."

* * *

" _This is Cas, leave a message._ _.."_ Dean hangs up in frustration, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"He still not answering you?" Sam asks curiously, following his brother into the all-night diner.

Dean doesn't respond, sliding into a booth, grabbing one of the menus sitting behind the salt and pepper shakers. He opens it, hiding behind it.

Sam reaches over, placing his hand on the menu, forcing it down, and says, "You know, you can talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean grunts, shoving Sam's hand away, and hides behind his menu again.

Neither brother says anything for a while, speaking only to give their waitress their orders. A couple times, Dean checks his phone, clearly looking for messages that aren't there, his jaw clenches each time. After the third time, Sam excuses himself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom, and heads towards the back of the diner. He ducks into the men's room, making sure nobody is inside, and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, hitting send on a familiar number.

It rings twice before a wary voice answers, " _Hello Sam."_

"What the hell, Cas," Sam exclaims before he can stop himself. "Stop ignoring Dean."

 _"I'm not ignoring Dean,"_ Cas replies slowly.

"Could have fooled me." Sam peeks outside of the bathroom, watching his brother glance at his phone in frustration, shoving it back into his pocket with a huff. He lets the door close and states, "Dean's been moping for the past two days waiting for you to pick up the phone."

" _Dean doesn't mope,"_ Cas deadpans and Sam can't help smiling, but it falls when Cas sighs and says,  _"I'm not avoiding him, at least not intentionally, but something happened on Saturday."_

Saturday had been the night Dean told Sam about his new found feelings, the day they polished off a bottle of some cheap whiskey. Dean had disappeared around midnight, leaving his Impala parked out in front of Sam's house, and Sam hadn't seen his brother until late Sunday morning, sour mood and all. For a fleeting moment, he actually thinks Dean and Cas had sex, but he knows that his brother would have told him, maybe even hinted at it, so something else must have happened.

"Well, what happened?"

" _He said something. Something while intoxicated."_

"Alright, but hey, we all say stupid things when we're drunk," Sam defends his brother, pacing slowly across the bathroom floor. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

" _That's what I fear,"_ Cas responds in a defeated voice. " _My frustration does not lie with Dean, but with myself for thinking he'd remember it in the morning."_

"Cas, what did Dean say?" Sam asks softly, pausing mid step when Cas tells him, his eyes widening slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his head. "You sure?"

" _He may have been drunk but I was not."_

"Alright." Sam starts pacing again, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He nods, coming to a decision, and says, "I have an idea."

* * *

Dean looks up when Sam returns, raising his eyebrows suspiciously. "You fall in?"

"Ha ha, hilarious," Sam retorts sliding back into the booth. He picks up his coffee, taking a sip, putting it back on the table. He knocks his knuckles against the surface, rocking in his seat for a second, before curiously asking, "Where'd you go Saturday night? After you left my place?"

Dean stills, his fork hovering over his food, frowning down at his eggs. "Why?"

"Just curious," Sam replies picking up his mug again, eyeing Dean over the rim as he takes another drink.

"Nowhere," Dean says after a long pause, picking at his breakfast.

"So, you didn't go see Cas?" Sam prods carefully, putting his mug down, trying to catch his brother's eye.

"Why?" Dean repeats, a little irritated, stabbing at his eggs with his fork.

"I don't know, but after what you said to me it doesn't seem weird that you'd...."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snaps dropping his fork. He jumps up, throwing a twenty on the table, and storms out of the diner, ignoring the stares that follow him. Sam stands, giving the patrons an apologetic smile, and quickly chases after his brother.

Dean's about a block and a half away when Sam catches up, his phone clenched tightly in his hands, glaring at the screen, Cas' name flashing back at him. For a brief moment, Sam actually thinks Dean's going to press ignore but he hits answer and snarls, "Where the hell have you been?" He's quiet a moment, listening, his anger ebbing away slightly as he nods. "When?" More silence follows before he nods again and says, "Alright. I'll be there." He hangs up, stashing his phone in his pocket, walking away from Sam and back towards his car.

 "Where you going?" Sam asks easily keeping pace with his brother.

"Cas needs help with something," Dean grumbles stalking across the street. "Gonna go see what he wants."

"Need a hand?"

Dean stops, fixing his brother with a searching look before shaking his head. "I'm good. You alright finding a way home?"

"I have friends, Dean."

"Yeah, well, Sully doesn't count," Dean sniffs unlocking his car door.

"I was a kid and he was imaginary." Sam glares at his brother, earning him an amused look, and Dean gets in the car. Sam's irritation dies a little, seeing a flicker of his brother's usual personality, and he sighs. "Just call me later, okay?"

"Sure thing," Dean replies starting his car. "Tell Sully hi from me."

"Fuck off, Dean," Sam says goodnaturedly, snorting when his brother flips him off.

He waits until he sees the Impala's taillights disappear around the corner before pulling his phone free, hitting send on a familiar number. It rings twice before a familiar voice distractedly answers, " _You are aware I am working right?"_ It's a lie, Sam can hear battle sounds from an MMORPG in the background.

"I think you're about to win the bet," he replies and pulls his phone away from his ear when he hears the loud shout of celebration.

* * *

Cas' hands are sweaty, his mouth dry, and he's pretty sure his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. He's never been this nervous in his life, not even when Meg Masters gave him his first blow job his junior year of high school. He slowly paces across his living room floor, rubbing his palms down his jean clad thighs, wishing, for the first time, that he had picked up smoking with Balthazar just for the sake of doing something with his hands.

A sharp knock startles him, his head jerking up to look at the door, and he swallows with some difficulty before shakily crossing the room. He draws in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and reaches for the doorknob, pulling the door open. Dean practically barrels into him the moment the door is open, stalking into Cas' apartment, turning in a half circle to face Cas.

"Alright, I'm here, what's going on?" Dean demands his hands curled into fists, his shoulders tense, almost as if he expects to be kicked out again.

"Hello Dean," Cas states in a hoarse voice.

"You okay?" The tension immediately leaves Dean, his fists unfurling, worry flickering across his face, and he takes a step forward, one hand raised as if he wants to touch Cas but he refrains.

Cas clears his throat, trying to speak again, but he can't quite force any words out of his lips so he nods. He wrings his hands, looking anywhere but at Dean, trying to fight past the sudden lump in his throat. He wills himself to say something, anything. Finally he manages to choke out, "I bought some pretzels."

Taken aback, Dean shuffles back a step. "What?"

"Some pretzels," Cas says weakly, feeling his face heat up. He slowly walks towards his kitchenette, opening one of the cabinets and pulling down a bag. "If you wanted some pretzels."

"No thanks, Cas."

"Okay." Cas puts the pretzels away, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets, keeping his back to Dean. Looking down at his coffee maker, studying the bright green machine, he says, "Well, they're there if you want any."

"Cas, what's going on?"

"What's going on?" Cas repeats quietly, nodding his head, giving himself a self-depreciating smile. "Good question."

"Look, buddy, I'm not sure..."

"Do you really not remember Saturday night?" Cas blurts still not turning around, removing his hands from his pocket and gripping the counter tightly.

"What?"

He's surprised Dean again, Cas can tell without having to look, and for a moment he nearly falters, but he forces himself to continue. "You said," he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, biting it, "you said you didn't remember showing up here Saturday night."

"And I don't," Dean states after a brief pause, keeping his voice neutral, "at least not everything."

"What does that mean?" Cas finally turns, fixing Dean with a hard stare, bracing his hands on either side of him, holding himself back from stalking across the room and grabbing Dean to do... what? He doesn't know exactly but it would clearly be a mistake.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, suddenly unable to look Cas in the eye, and he shrugs. Cas huffs, shaking his head, and can't help wondering why he's wasting his time. Clearly Sam's plan isn't working and Cas should just cut his losses and pretend nothing happened. It'd be a lot easier than having to deal with the sudden pain in his chest knowing Dean won't (or can't) remember what he said. It hurts worse knowing if Dean ever did remember he probably would never say anything, letting the tension stew between them until they drifted apart.

Cas turns his back on Dean again, breathing deeply, waiting for Dean to leave, but after several tense seconds the door doesn't open. Cas spares a fleeting glance over his shoulder, looking at Dean still standing in the exact same spot, looking a little lost.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas murmurs looking down at the counter again.

"For what?" Dean whispers.

Cas shrugs, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the way his eyes burn, his vision blurring slightly. He sniffs, rubbing his nose with his left hand, jumping slightly when a hand falls on his shoulder.

"I might remember one thing."

"What?" Cas slowly turns, refusing to give into the hope he feels, squashing it down with everything he has, looking up at Dean. He's surprised to see how close they are, backing into the counter out of habit, his lower back pressing into the edge. "What?" he repeats, voice suddenly hoarse again, his eyes briefly flicking to Dean's lips before snapping back to his eyes.

"I remember how badly I wanted to kiss you," Dean replies breathlessly.

Cas isn't sure who moves first, but Dean's hands are suddenly cradling his face, and he has one arm wrapped around Dean's waist, the other gripping his shoulder tightly, foreheads bumping together gently as they brush their noses against each other. Dean kisses Cas' top lip first slowly, teasing him, grinning into the kiss when Cas whimpers. He tilts his head after a bit, kissing Cas fully, pressing him further into the counter until he's practically sitting on it.

It's a long, drawn out kiss, neither man really in any hurry to stop, but eventually they have to breathe, reluctantly pulling away but not too far. They're both basically breathing each other's air, foreheads pressed together again, Dean's thumbs caressing Cas' face, his fingers fiddling with the hair on the back of his neck, a soft smile playing across his lips.

"Hi," Dean says quietly.

"Hello," Cas whispers grinning.

"I kinda wanna kiss you again."

"I kind of want you to kiss me again."

"Ugh, get a room," a voice says from the door, startling both men, and they both turn to see Sam and Charlie standing in the doorway, the latter barely containing her grin, clutching the 24 pack to her chest.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean grunts returning his attention to Cas, pressing his lips to his again.

Behind them, neither see Sam hand Charlie a fifty, not even attempting to hide his smirk, actually pretty glad he lost this bet. He's not sure he could have lasted until Christmas. He turns to Charlie, nodding toward Cas' couch, and she shakes her head, grabbing Sam's arm, pulling him out of the apartment, letting the door close behind her, mentioning something about needing Sam's help with her band of misfits.

He snorts, shaking his head, but says, "Alright, but I'm not gonna be the handmaiden."

"Nonsense, Sam," she calls over her shoulder, leading him towards the stairwell, "that's Dean's job."

**The End...**

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah :)


End file.
